Sizzling Nights (Servicemen of Blossom Springs #5)

Chapter 1

1

M arco stepped from the shower, toweled off, and dressed. He swiped a brush through his hair, trying to ignore the grays that seemed to reach for the light and shine bright. His hair was getting long again. He often let it grow longer than he should between cuts. When he'd been a SEAL, he had to keep his hair short, so this was his rebellion now. He didn't have to do shit with his hair. But he did. He kept it neat, clean, and in some sort of style. But he didn't have to. That was the bonus.

He stepped from his bathroom into the bedroom of his new home, the condo he'd purchased in the Barrack's Condominiums. The old Army barracks had been abandoned years ago, and Quinn, a local contractor, had a vision. It was a good vision. Marco loved his place here. The decorating was simple but somewhat elegant and clean. His condo was on the second floor, and he had a perfect view looking down Main Street of Blossom Springs. It was what drew him to this condo. He loved this spectacular view. Now that it was December, the local businesses were beginning to decorate for Christmas, which was exciting. It reminded him of home. Small town. Charming. Quaint. His hometown in Wisconsin was cold. Here it was warm 11 months out of the year. He especially loved that. Plus, his siblings were spread out over the US. His older brother, Brock, was in Colorado. His younger brother, Devon, was in Houston. His sister, Effie, the youngest of their family, lived in West Virginia. Their parents were gone. So, for him, home was anywhere he wanted it to be, and that was here in Blossom Springs.

Dressing for work, he donned a white t-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants. He slipped on his comfortable tennis shoes and headed toward the door.

His drive was short, as he lived only a few blocks from the Sandbar, but he grinned most of the way. As he passed the grocery store, he noted the large ornament that surrounded the front entrance requiring customers to walk under it to enter the store. It was nice. He made a note to himself to remember to look at it when he came home tonight to see if it was lit up.

He parked alongside the Sandbar, near the pantry door for employees, and whistled as he entered the building. As he rounded the corner the first person he saw was Theresa Miklovic, the hot-as-heck waitress and front-end manager. She wore black shorts that showed off her gorgeous legs and a white tank top that showed off her...other assets wonderfully. She donned the little black apron around her waist and wore black high-top tennis shoes which only Theresa could pull off. The entire outfit made him lay awake at night thinking about her assets. All of them.

"Hey, Marco. How's it going?"

How's it going? Trying to sound casual as shit "Good. How's it going with you?"

She grinned and cocked her hip to the right. "It's all good, I guess. Expecting a large crowd tonight."

He liked her silhouette with her hip cocked. She looked sassy and ready to take on the world. "That's a fact. The Christmas parties are beginning."

"Wait till you see what Margo did with the decorations. It's beautiful."

He nodded slightly but looked into Theresa's dark brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman. And she had an air about her that called to him. She was confident and sure of herself. But she also seemed as though she was hiding something. Maybe that's what intrigued him about her. "She's very good at all that."

"Yeah." Theresa pulled a new container of salt from the shelf in the pantry. He stared at her body as she stretched up, the swell of her breast from the side slid smoothly into her thin torso. The curvy lines were perfect and if he were an artist he'd beg to paint her. She turned, and their eyes met. She smiled sweetly, then sauntered out without another word.

He swallowed to remove the dryness from his throat, then inhaled deeply before moving himself forward into the kitchen.

Pulling his white jacket on, he stepped to the stove and lit the gas burners. As they warmed, he turned to the stainless-steel table behind him and inventoried the stacks of vegetables being peeled and cut up by the staff.

"Everyone ready for tonight?"

"Yes, Chef."

"Good. It's going to be busy. We're beginning the season of Christmas parties and merriment. Let's do our best to leave everyone excited about the meals they eat here."

"Yes, Chef."

He made eye contact with each of his three workers, then grinned. He turned and pulled his first fry pan toward him and drizzled oil in the pan before stacking cut carrot pennies into the pan. He set the pan on the stove and began pulling his spices and utensils out. This was exciting. This beginning where everything was fresh and clean and none of his staff had the dark circles under their eyes from working a hard day in a hot kitchen. That would come later.

The chart that hung near the stove with the foods listed he'd need for tonight caught his attention, and he glanced at it once more. He'd carefully perused it all week, ensuring he wasn't forgetting anything. He didn't. He was good at this. This was his arena now and he excelled in it. It's what kept his PTSD at bay. Enjoying the activity of making delicious meals for customers and the praise he always received from Jace, Margo, and the staff as they tried his food. Yeah, this was where he felt alive. His blood sizzled through his veins as the aromas of the cooking vegetables reached his nostrils. The staff chattered and communicated behind him. He listened partially to make sure communication was on point, but his mind was now on the delicious meals he'd prepare.

The first order came in as the waitress, Kelsey, slid it up on the order reel. "Order up." She called out before disappearing in a whoosh of black and white. Everyone here wore black slacks, shorts, skirts, and white tops. During the evening, shorts needed to be less casual and dressier. But, these servers worked hard, so shorts were still allowed, they just needed to be more like khakis, no denim. No one wore them like Theresa though.

He shook his head to get it back in the game. But almost as if she were summoned, Theresa entered the kitchen. "Marco, we have a party of eighteen coming in at six-thirty. What do you need set up ahead of time?"

He turned his head and grinned at her. "Have them order as they enter and before they sit."

"Will do." She smiled before she stepped out of the kitchen.

He grinned and shook his head. She smiled at him. He continued dropping steaks on the grill and checking his orders. But this time he felt a little lighter.

A few minutes later, Marco pulled the steak off his grill and set it on the plate. He arranged it just the way he liked. He was particular about how he displayed his food. He hadn't made head chef by being sloppy.

He called out, “Vegetables.”

“Yes, Chef,” one of the kitchen workers yelled. They came over, grabbed the plate, and began adding the vegetables to it.

Marco turned back to his grill and inspected the next steak. He plated it, then called out, “Kelsey, order up.”

“Got it, Marco,” she called back.

He turned his head to see Theresa watching him from the doorway. He nodded and received a smile again. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was beginning to warm to him. He liked her. She was smart, always on the ball, never a problem. She showed up on time and got the job done. She was what you’d call a dream employee. Yeah, he liked her. Plus, it didn’t hurt that she was a looker.

He pulled the slip from the spring above him and glanced at the next order. Three more steaks and a lobster. He quickly grabbed the food from the cooler next to his grill, placed the steaks on the fire, and double-checked their doneness. Then he looked at the next order in line.

It was a good night.

He glanced over his left shoulder as Theresa sauntered into the kitchen to grab the plates. She caught his eye and grinned. Yeah, she liked him. He'd almost place money on it.

Marco kept cooking, calling out orders, not really barking, just clear and steady. Before he knew it, the end of the night was near.

As the kitchen staff cleaned up, Marco worked on his grill. He was particular about how it was cleaned, so he performed this task rather than leave it to someone else. From the corner of his eye, he watched Theresa hustling back and forth. She brought in condiments, refilled jars, and wiped everything down. She was meticulous. Always meticulous.

Her phone rang, and she reached into her apron. When she glanced at the screen, her brows furrowed. She tucked the phone back into her apron and took a deep breath. Marco found it curious, but he didn’t know much about her life. A little, maybe. They talked some, but she was always secretive about the details. He wondered about that. She didn’t wear a wedding ring. She never mentioned a man—or a woman—at home. She didn’t talk about her life much at all. Come to think of it, he probably didn’t share much about his own life either. He didn't want to bore anyone with his life's issues.

Her phone rang again. This time, Marco turned to watch as she pulled it out. Her lips tightened, and her shoulders straightened.

“You okay, Theresa?” he asked.

She looked startled and quickly tucked the phone back into her apron. She nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

He nodded, but he didn’t believe her. He felt again that she was hiding something.

The kitchen cleared out, leaving just him and Theresa. Marco looked around and then walked to the end of the counter where she was filling ketchup bottles for the next day. He leaned against the table; arms crossed.

“Hey, if you need anything, you let me know, okay?” he said.

She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It barely creased her lips. “Okay, I will.”

She was lying again.

When she finished her task, Marco busied himself with his own work. He was planning to follow her out to her car to make sure she was okay. But following her home? That was probably off-limits.

Right?

Maybe he should follow her home. He'd do that.